


crossed the line so many times that i don't even know what it stands for

by spaceMaverick



Series: Killjoys 'Verse [3]
Category: Danger Days: The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys - My Chemical Romance (Album)
Genre: Angst, Battery City, Codependency, Gen, Heavy Angst, Hurt No Comfort, I REPEAT: NO INCEST, Mental Breakdown, No Incest, Pre-Canon, Sad Ending, Schizophrenia, Self-Harm, Sibling Love, Suicide Attempt, The Author Is Using Projection Onto Fictional Characters To Cope, The Author Regrets Everything, The Fabulous Killjoys (Danger Days) Are Not MCR, i would say ambiguous but obviously he lives, no one dies but it doesnt end on a happy note
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-23
Updated: 2020-11-23
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:27:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,104
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27686912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spaceMaverick/pseuds/spaceMaverick
Summary: It wasn’t like he was out of control.He just needed a distraction. Something else to focus on when his brain played tricks on him, somethingrealandtactilethat would drive away the sights and sounds plaguing his everyday life.
Relationships: Kobra Kid & Party Poison (Danger Days)
Series: Killjoys 'Verse [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1725742
Comments: 3
Kudos: 10





	crossed the line so many times that i don't even know what it stands for

**Author's Note:**

> our beloved siblings have not yet joined the desert, and are referred to by their city names: lucas and edward hille.
> 
> i _am_ working on the next chapter of my main killjoys fic, but this has been sitting around and i'd like to have it somewhere else. i added to this whenever i did or wanted to relapse, but i enjoyed writing it :)  
> since this is a vent fic its way less polished than any of my other stuff (not that thats very polished to begin with). might be messy or choppy in places. or all throughout, who knows? im posting this for catharsis  
> needless to say this is explicitly about self harm, and has some slightly graphic imagery towards the end. please use common sense while reading this, its a self harm fic lmao.
> 
> title is from home sweet hole by bring me the horizon!

It wasn’t like he was out of control.

He just needed a distraction. Something else to focus on when his brain played tricks on him, something _real_ and _tactile_ that would drive away the sights and sounds plaguing his everyday life.

So maybe sometimes, when it was entirely too much, Lucas would hurt himself. It wasn’t a big deal! It wasn’t that bad, just small nicks on his shoulders. He always cleaned the paring knife and returned it to its spot in the kitchen when he was done. No one noticed!

No one noticed.

Even as the marks crept down his arms, his chest, his hips, no one noticed. Until he stupidly decided to annoy Edward by stealing his highlighters. His brother chased him across the house, all the way to the foyer where he caught Lucas in a headlock. Lucas stretched his arm as far as it would go to keep the highlighters out of reach, his sleeve pulling back just a few inches in the process. But it was enough to expose two faded pink lines on the outside of his wrist.

“Woah, what happened there?” Edward said, snatching the highlighters back. He moved to grab Lucas’ wrist, too, but Lucas managed to twist away from him and tug the sleeve back down.

“Nothing,” Lucas said, biting back a meaner response. Edward probably already knew something was wrong, but overreacting would just make it worse. “I fell into a locker a few- a few- a few days ago and jammed, and jammed- my arm against the grates, it was nothing.” The lie was sour in his mouth, and his stomach rolled as he added, “I promise, I promise.” His stumbling over sentences was common enough that Lucas could bet no one could tell the difference if he was lying.

Edward quickly glanced over him, but seemed to accept his excuse. “Okay, but you should tell Mom or Dad if you get hurt. You never know-”

“Yeah, it might be worse, it might be, it might be… it might be worse than it looks. But seriously, seriously, it was really shallow. It’ll probably fade by- by the end of the week.” Nevermind the fact that those cuts were months old by this point; he’d just have to get better at hiding them.

“Okay,” Edward said hesitantly. “I’m gonna keep working-” he held up the highlighters, “-but lemme know if you need anything. Mom n’ Dad should be home soon, though.” He disappeared around the corner to go back to his room. Lucas let out a long sigh, leaning and sliding a little ways down the nearest wall. _That was way too close. Way too close. Way too close. Way too- stop it already!_ He shook his head out to stop the repetition, but it was harder to slow his thoughts down than his words. _Shut up, shut up, shut up- FUCK!_ He let the swear ring around in his head; it echoed like the way Edward described the Slums when he’d gotten lost in them. He felt childish taking delight in swearing in his head, but he was twelve, dammit, he figured he could still hang onto a little bit of his early childhood before he started going to the same school as Edward.

Not even Edward’s concern could stop the nauseating itch on Lucas’ skin whenever he got overwhelmed. He’d locked himself in bathrooms, hidden behind walls in the neighborhood camera’s blind spots he wasn’t supposed to know about, hidden in his _closet,_ just to hurt himself. It was getting tiring. He’d worn a sweater on his first day of eighth grade, with layers of bracelets to cover anything that might show if the sleeves rode up. It was getting tiring, and it was getting ridiculous.

What was worse, is that Edward _definitely_ knew something was really, really wrong.

Lucas was almost glad his parents had been replaced; despite BLI’s best efforts, their “parenting units” were very easy to manipulate. He’d lost count of how many times he’d lied to them about an injury, or why he was wearing his jacket all the time. It was too easy.

But Edward- thank _goodness-_ was real. They’d developed multiple layers of verification, just to keep Lucas’ paranoia at bay. Edward was real, and he was Lucas’ only support most of the time. And Edward was worried.

“How do you keep getting injured?” He’d asked one day. They were sitting on the couch doing homework. Lucas hadn’t even slipped up, his sleeves were down and the new scratch near his collar bone wasn’t visible. He froze, giving himself away to his brother. “I know it’s happening more than you say it is.”

“‘S cause I get lost in thought- ‘s cause I get. Yeah.” Lucas said. “There’s a surprising, surprising, there’s a- surprising amount of sharp edges in the world.” Technically both statements were true; Lucas was easily distracted and got stuck in his head, and nearly anything could hurt him if he ~~tried hard enough~~ was too clumsy.

“Lucas.” Edward was looking at him now, pencil abandoned on his worksheet. Lucas shrunk under his gaze, fiddling with the hem of his sleeve nervously. Edward moved his work off of his lap and scooted closer. “What’s going on?”

“Why do you care?” Of course he cared. Of course he was worried. That’s exactly why Lucas loved him. That’s why it hurt so much to lie to him. “I’m spacey and clumsy, why are you surprised? Why are you surprised?”

“Because _no one_ gets hurt that much! There’s no way you’re being injured this often by accident! Will you just tell me what’s happening?”

“Nothing!”

Edward slammed his hand on the couch with a dull thud. “Stop lying to me!” His voice was strained, and when Lucas looked up there were tears in his eyes. “If someone’s hurting you, we can make it stop! And if-” he paused, taking a shaky breath. “I don’t know what happens if it’s you,” he continued, voice low and quivering.

Lucas was silent, looking down at his hands. “Will they bleach me?” He finally asked, barely able to get his voice above a whisper. He was tired of lying to his best friend. He was terrified of what might happen to him at his next doctor’s appointment; he needed Edward’s support. His question rang in his mind, _Will they? Will they bleach me?_ Or would it be too much trouble? Was it even worth it to bleach him? He’d already caused so many problems. It was a miracle they hadn’t gotten rid of him when he was nine and started seeing things.

“Nothing’s gonna happen to you,” Edward growled. “We can- we can hide it or something. Where is it the worst?”

“M-my arms,” Lucas replied before he could feel uncomfortable. “Are you thinking about the doctor’s?” _Doctor’s doctor’s doctor’s doctor’s-_

Edward nodded. “They only need to feel your back and chest. Blood pressure doesn’t need the sleeves rolled up.” His expression softened, suddenly hesitant. “Are there any…” he gestured vaguely, “-on your back or chest.” He sighed when Lucas nodded, but there was no anger. Edward just looked sad. So sad. It made Lucas’ chest tighten in the worst way.

“We might be able to make something up, make something up, up, up-” _up, up, up, up, up, up-_ “Just for those. Just for those. I fell. Rough concrete?”

“If you think it can pass as an abrasion, it could work.”

Lucas nodded despite knowing that the scratches on his chest couldn’t be mistaken for anything else. He’d just have to _make_ it an abrasion. It would be worth it if the doctor didn’t find out.

The front door creaked as Mom and Dad returned from the store (or wherever it was they had gone), and Edward scrambled to get both of their homework back in order. Dad went straight to the kitchen, and Mom only glanced in their direction before joining him. Lucas sighed, slumping against the couch and staring blankly at the coffee table. Edward patted him on the shoulder before finally getting back to his work.

_No one else has to know,_ Lucas told himself, _Just me and Edward. I can keep hiding it. I can keep hiding it._

Lucas was not weak-willed. He’d always been too stubborn for his own good- except the time he was on a much higher dose of medicine and was practically catatonic- and always wanted things to go the way he thought they should.

But he was _tired._ He was tired of doing horrible things to himself- tired of the _want_ and the _need_ to. He was tired of being hyper-aware of how much of his body was visible, how risky certain clothes and movements were. He was tired of trying so damn hard all the time.

It started, as most things do, as an idea.

The tiniest thing in the back of his head, carefully contained and ignored. But as things got harder, it also became harder to keep his subconscious at bay.

He could just… not live anymore.

People died. People died often, they died accidentally, they died naturally, they died, they died, they died. And when they were dead, they were _untouchable._ BLI couldn’t make the dead work for them. Battery City couldn’t track them and monitor them. From all perspectives, it seemed like a pretty good deal.

The guilt from thinking about it so much was already killing him anyway.

He didn’t know what would happen to Edward if he did it. Edward was older, more mature, _less insane,_ so he would probably be okay in the end. He could recover and continue his life as a _Better_ citizen without worrying about his little brother so much.

_It’s not like I’d be around to see it if he wasn’t okay._ Dead was dead. He couldn’t have any problems with what happened after he died; he was fucking _dead._

His parenting units would get in trouble for this- not that it mattered. He was awake in the middle of the night, shifting from foot to foot in the bathroom, heart hammering in his chest. The cold air and nerves made the hair on his arms and neck stand on end. He bit at the skin around his fingernails and eyed the knife on the counter- the same small paring knife he’d been stealing for the past year. Shit sucked and he was tired of it; he couldn’t even find a more eloquent way to say it. _I bet Edward would._ His brother loved making words beautiful, like the drawings he thought no one saw. Lucas was going to miss him.

At some point he’d sat on the floor. And at some _other_ point his arms had opened with a lattice of dark red lines and the paring knife was held loosely in his right hand. He’d planned on breaking into his pill organizer, but it would definitely be too much work now. Maybe he already had, and that was why he felt so weak. That and the blood loss.

He wasn’t a fan of how sticky the blood was on his arms and the floor. He knew it as soaking his shirt and pants, and briefly apologized to whoever would have to get the disgusting things off of him.

Things were going well for a suicide attempt until his dulled, murky hearing picked up the sound of footsteps in the hallway. Lucas hoped against hope that it would be Mom or Dad, but he knew Edward was approaching the bathroom now. _I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry Edward, I’m so sorry-_ He couldn’t actually make out what his brother said, and he was honestly glad. The choked, desperate tone of Edward’s voice was enough to make him want to take it all back. _I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I love you, I’m sorry._

There were more voices now, and for a moment Lucas thought he was hallucinating, but two more shapes had appeared in the doorframe. Mom and Dad. They’d notify the authorities, and he’d be rushed to the hospital. _If I’m not already dead by then._

He felt himself being moved and felt Edward’s shaggy brown hair brush against his forehead. He couldn’t tell if the trembling was coming from him or the tight hold his brother had him in. _Maybe I am dead,_ he thought. Maybe there was an afterlife, and he was being punished by reliving his brother’s heartbreak forever and ever.

Or maybe this was the good option, and he could spend the rest of eternity in Edward’s arms.


End file.
